


I'll Be Demi Moore

by Ohio_Doe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Cas is dead, Character Death, Fluff, Ghost Cas, Ghost Sex, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 02:44:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18512293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohio_Doe/pseuds/Ohio_Doe
Summary: Dean befriends a ghost that's living in his house.





	1. You be Swayze

**Author's Note:**

> Work not beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

This first time Dean realized something weird was going on was the third time that he’d forgotten to set his alarm yet something had woken him up at almost the exact same time his alarm would. Of course it was probably just internal clock being itself but he always made it to work on time.

Other things started happening too. He’d stumble around in the dark yet he’d never trip over a stool he remembered leaving in the middle of the floor or the coffee table would magically not close to his foot to stub his toe on it. Dean tried not to think too hard on the weird things.

That was until he literally saw it happen on a night he couldn’t sleep. Dean sighed, sitting on the couch. He was so tired of this shit.

“Okay, I know you’re here. Don’t make it awkward by hiding.” Dean scanned the room. “Dead shit it usually a lot easier to see.”

Slowly from the corner of his eye, he saw a tall figure creep from around the back of the couch. The ghost was a guy. A handsome guy. He had crazy dark hair and huge owl eyes the color of the fucking ocean. Damn, if only he wasn’t dead.

“Finally.” Dean rubbed his face. “Look, you move my shit, that’s cool. I’m glad I haven’t gotten a face full of carpet since I moved here, but you’re creeping me out dude.”

The guys eyes widened even more, if that was even possible, and he looked around as if searching for someone behind him.

“Yes, you, Patrick Swayze.” Dean chuckled at his own joke. “Anyway, you can’t be moving shit when you’re invisible. It’s creepy. You want to move something, I want to see you. I don’t care if you’re a ghost that can’t talk or a ghost who’s shy. Just stop freaking me out. Capiche?”

The dead guy stood there for a few more minutes, seeming to stare into Dean’s soul. He opened his mouth a few times before repeating, “Capiche.” Damn, his voice was deep. Maybe he’d gargled gravel every night.

Dean nodded, “Good. Now, don’t be too shocked if I can see you. I’ve always been able to see dead people. Ever since..” Dean trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “Since an accident when I was little. Anyway, I’m headed to bed.”

He couldn’t sleep that night. How could he? The ghost in his house wasn’t some weird old guy or an old Betty. He was young and hot. And his voice was sex on rocks. Dean shoock his head, pulling a pillow over his face. Maybe if he suffocated himself, he’d be happier. Wait, no. Then he’d be stuck with hot dead guy.

 

It wasn’t for another week that Dean saw Dead Guy again. Guess he forgot to set his alarm again because what woke him up was his spectral stranger, sitting on the edge of his bed, stroking his arm. It felt nice until he opened his eyes and almost jumped off the bed.

Brows creased in concern, Dead Guy pointed to himself. “Said I should be visible.” He dropped his hands in his lap, thumbs twiddling.

Dean’s stomach dropped. “Uh, yeah dude. I guess I did say that.” He cleared his throat, conscious of his lack of clothes besides boxers. “So, uh, is that how you usually wake me up?”

Dead Guy nodded. “Yes.” His voice was quiet, as if unused. He tried again “Yes, I figured if I shook you, it’d be too obvious I was here.” He tilted his head.

Damn. Of course he didn’t think of that. Dean placed his hands on his hips and lowered his head, thinking. They’d need to set up a system if he was going to be sharing him home with a ghost.

“So, I want to say sorry about that. I’m not used to waking up to someone there beside me.” That just sounded sad coming from Dean’s mouth. He used to be lord of the one night stands but he wanted someone who could be with him and not get freaked out when he started talking to the dead. “Anyway, uhm, maybe we should set up some guidelines, yeah?”

Dead Guy nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. He licked them (No, that _wasn’t hot_ ), standing from the bed. “My name is Castiel.”

Dean nodded back, rolling the name around his head. “Can I call you Cas? Castiel is bit of a mouth full. I’m Dean.”

Cas’ eyes shined with myrth, smile turning a bit shy. “Of course. And I know your name. I first heard you say it when you were moving in when you said ‘Of course I can eat an entire pizza, Samantha. I’m Dean Fucking Winchester.’” He laughed.

Dean blushed. Not the best first impression. His heart dropped into his stomach. If he saw that, did he see all the times Dean, you know, played five finger shuffle. Spanked the monkey. Made Pearl Jam. Damn it, made himself cum. Oh god, had he seen Dean use his toys. He could have vomited.

Dean cleared this throat, trying to will his brush away. “That’s cool, man. Glad the introductions are out of the way. Now, to the rules.” Dean crossed his arms over his bare chest, feeling a bit more exposed than one should while discussing house rules with a guest. Or, Dean mused, he was the one invading. “There won’t be many. One, I want to be able to see you when you do creepy shit like move my stuff out of the way. Two, Sam can’t see you. He’s a bit weird about the crap I can do so he’s about of the loop on most things paranormal. My brother loves me, but he doesn’t understand me.”

A sad looked crossed over Cas’ face but he just nodded. A question seemed to come to mind, but before he could open his mouth to ask, Dean spoke.

“Don’t be too worried about other people seeing you either. I don’t bring people around because there’s no one to bring around. Besides Charlie but she’s like a coven leader or some shit.” He inspected his nails. “People don’t seem to want to be around a weirdo but that’s perfectly fine. I have Sam.”

The slight frown in Dean’s face gave him away but Castiel didn’t speak up. It was odd, having someone talking to him and not just to the thin air like he’d encountered before. These words were directed at him. This man was talking to him and he wasn’t batting an eyelash. He supposes Dean has seen his fair share of the dead then, considering his rules. He’d either been spooked further than he’d want to discuss or had always set up these rules with the dead.

When Castiel agreed to the rather easy conditions, Dean went through the motions of getting ready for work, first brewing coffee while he showered. He’d wondered if Cas ever watched him shower. He probably didn’t. Yes, Dean was attractive, but he was the guy who talked to ghosts. And he was pretty sure ghosts didn’t, you know, get horny.

 

When Dean had gotten home from a long day at work, he was beat. When he walked through the door, he saw Cas sitting on the couch, book resting on the coffee table below. It was an old book, one of the only things he had left of his mother. It wasn’t very good or interesting but it was hers.

As Dean watched him, he took in the crease in the ghost’s brow, the concentration on his face as he studied the book. It was odd, seeing a ghost so clearly. When he did, they were mostly transparent and not as solid as this one.

Days passed, even weeks before Dean came to a revelation. Coming home to find Castiel studying a book or watching intently at the bees in garden was one of his new favorite things. Dean had always felt so lonely. Even with Sam in his life, he’d never been understood. Yeah, its cliché, but he wanted just one person to see him for what he was. And Castiel did that. Castiel seemed to be able to stare through Dean, right down to his soul. His eyes intense, shining bluer than possible.

 

Dean woke up around two in the morning with a raging boner and no work tomorrow. That means he didn’t have to rush himself to cum and enjoy it. So, reaching into his nightstand to grab some lube, Dean kicked his boxers off, bunching them and the blanket at the foot of the bed. Wrapping his lubed up hand around his cock, Dean groaned into the quiet room. It’d been a while since he’d touched himself. Not since Cas had popped up. The thought of Cas making his cock even harder and throb. Slightly thrusting into his hand, Dean relished the tight feeling, imagining what it would be like to fuck Cas.

He wondered if he could. That would be hot. Maybe a bit weird but Dean could get down with some weird stuff. He had a collection of panties and none of them belonging to any exes if you get my drift.

He tightened his hand around the base of his cock, trying to stave off his orgasm. He wanted to make this session good and that means lasting longer than five minutes. Dean looked down at his cock, leaking and read. He could admit that his cock was good looking. Clean and big. Slowly, he started watching himself stoke his cock, the head peeking out from his fist, wet with lube and precum.

Dean ran his hand up his chest and played with his nipples. They were sensitive so he didn’t have to pinch too hard. He moaned as he worked himself over, bringing himself to the edge of orgasm only to tighten his grip at the base, keeping himself from cuming. His breath was quick and short, his nipples red, tears welling up into his eyes. He knew this would make his orgasm all the much better, cock almost purple now with his own ministrations.

From the corner of his eye, Dean could see movement in the corner of the room. Unless someone broke in and snuck in past his closed door, Dean knew who it was. Castiel was watching him stoke his cock, bringing himself to the brink, over and over. If possible, his cock got impossibly harder, leaking more precum.

Dean didn’t look toward the other man, nor did he acknowledge him at all. Just knowing he was being watched was making this all the much better. Biting his lip, Dean continued to stroke himself. He twisted his hand, letting his thumb brush over the head. Increasing his speed and moans slipping abandoned from his lips, Dean was so close.

Sweat gathered in the hallow of his throat, coating his skin. With his spare hand, Dean reached down and played with his hole, running his fingers on and around the entrance but not penetrating. That would be for a different session. Right now, Dean wanted to make Castiel watch him cum. The figure in the corner of his eye shifted, moving slightly closer, but keeping to the shadows, still hiding.

The fingers he had on his hole pressed and caressed, spreading his ass. Three more strokes and Dean’s body went rigid, breath catching in his throat. Cum spirted from his cock, his orgasm washing over him. It seemed to crash into him like a wave and flow through him like a raging river. Seed coating his abdomen and hand, quickly cooling and becoming sticky. Dean laid there, eyes closed and breath ragged.

Once his body calmed down and stopped quivering, heartrate back to normal, Dean looked around the room. Castiel was gone. Maybe he regretted watching Dean but that was a pretty damn good orgasm so Dean wasn’t sorry. Dean took a quick shower and laid back down to sleep, thinking of his observer. He wondered is Cas had watched him before. Maybe, he thought as he slipped back into sleep.


	2. Ditto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I seem to be one for death.

 

Things weren’t weird between to two men, not like Dean thought they would be. Castiel was a bit quieter, if that was possible. Things were good, waking up to Cas, going to work, coming home to Cas, sleep, repeat.

He learned what he could about the dead man, asking him questions. Cas apparently died ten years ago, falling down the stairs, having tripped over a tie. A tie he’d left on the floor on his way to bed after he got home from work. He’d lived alone, his wife divorcing him and taking their daughter. He’d had a lot of siblings, not really close with any of them.

Dean knew he was in trouble, craving to be in the presence of the man. Touching himself had become about a weekly event, aware of the guest in the corner of his room every time. He could have felt guilty, using Cas as a kink, being turned on by his spectating of his one man show. But he thinks its Cas that was his new kink.

 

Sam showed up, unannounced, on a break from work. Of course he was, he’d just won a giant case and he gave himself a small vacation. Not mentioning Cas, Dean made small talk with Sam over dinner. Dean usually ate with his housemate but Sam would probably get freaked out.

Sam cleared his throat, picking at his salad. “So, Dean, how are things?” he speared a piece of lettuce, nibbling on the edges.

Weird. Sam was usually into his weird rabbit food. “I’m good, Sammy.” Dean smiled, thinking of his time spent with Cas. He took a bite of his burger, mumbling through his food. “I’m fine. Work sucks and I still see ghosts so, nothing new.”

Sam’s face went blank, eyes dropping to his plate. “Uh, good. Good.” He cleared his throat, looking a bit uncomfortable, face pale.

Dean chuckled, wiping his hands on napkin. “I’m fine, Sammy.” Dean reaching out and patting Sam on the shoulder. “I raised you on my own, basically, so I think I’ll be okay living alone.”

Sam frowned. “Yeah, you raised me because mom died and dad was too drunk to realize we were there. You had no other choice until Bobby stepped in years later.”

He wasn’t sure if he felt mad or sad, but he felt something drop to the bottom of his stomach. “Bobby didn’t know dad was treating us like that, Sam. He saved us as soon as he could. We’re alive and we’re here, together. You’re basically a giant. I think we turned out fine.”

“Fine? Dean, we’re so fine that I fight cases on neglected children and you talk to ghosts and lock yourself in your house.” Sam nearly shouted. “We’re not okay. We’re far from okay. We haven’t been okay since we saw mom die and we were only kids then.”

Dean opened his mouth to respond but no words came out. He remembered the day they saw Mary die, slipping from the step ladder and hitting her head on the counter. Sam thought she was just sleeping because she had a booboo but Dean knew something was wrong. He’d taken Sam to their room, keeping him busy and away from mom’s body.

Sam lowered his head, regret on his face. “I’m sorry, Dee.” His voice was quiet, small. He’d always used that voice when Dean was scared or having a breakdown.

Clearing his throat, Dean stood from the table. “It’s fine. I’m going to lay down. I’m a bit tired. The guest room’s yours. Let me know if you need anything.”

Closing his bedroom door behind him, Dean rested against its cool surface, trying to will his brain to stop. He kept seeing his mother’s body over and over, her head hitting the counter, her laying quietly as she bled on the ground, or her pale face staring lifelessly up at him.

Cas was sitting on his bed, face neutral. He’d heard their conversation. The only time he had this face was when he was trying to hide something. Dean joined him, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands.

“You can talk to me.” Cas’ voice cracked from ill use. “Or you could lay with me. You seem like you need to be held.” He sent an apologetic smile toward Dean.

Without a word, Dean laid down on the bed, head pillowed on Castiel’s surprisingly soft chest. It’d been so long since he’d been held. With soft hands, Castiel ran them up and around Dean’s back, softly sliding his fingers up and down the man’s back, making Dean slip silently into sleep.

When Dean woke up, he was alone and tucked into his blankets. He’d hoped Cas would be there beside him. Well, he didn’t sleep so what would he do, just lay there and watch Dean sleep. He snorted at his own ridiculous thought and made his way through the dark house, wanted to get a glass of water.

A footstool slid to the side of the path Dean was making, person who moved it unseen. Knowing Sam was in the house, Dean forgave Cas for breaking the rules. “Thanks, Cas.” He murmured, rubbing his eyes. As he reached the cabinet with his glasses, he heard a throat clear.

“Who’s Cas?” Sam’s voice almost echoed in the quiet kitchen. He was holding an empty beer bottle, the gross crap Dean keeps for him.

Dean’s movements froze for just a second, continuing on his quest for a glass. “Oh, no one. Must have been half asleep.” He responded, filling his glass with cool water from the fridge. He took a gulp, holding the water in his mouth, avoiding Sam’s gaze.

Sam wasn’t having any of it. He placed the beer bottle in the sink, turning back to his brother. “No one? You seemed to be quite friendly with that no one.”

Dean shrugged, taking another drink. He didn’t know what to say. Cas was a ghost who lived in his house who he let watch him masturbate but he doesn’t know Dean knows? Probably not the best thing to say. Especially if Cas was somewhere close.

Sam frowned. “Is this Cas haunting your house?” Dean kept avoiding Sam’s gaze. “Oh my god, it is! You’re talking to a ghost?!” Sam threw his hands up.

Swallowing his water, Dean looked up. “It’s not like I have anyone else to talk to, Sam.” Dean answered, grimacing at his choice of words. “Besides, Cas is a nice guy. He’s good, you know? He listens when I talk and he actually want to know about me.” Dean took a breath. “Sam, you don’t know how lonely I am. I know, I’m talking to ghosts. But it’s not like that. Not with Cas.”

Sam stood still and quiet for a minute. Maybe he was thinking about his brother’s life. Or maybe he’d tuned out. Who knew. “If you’re happy,” Sam’s words were hesitant, like it was hard to get them out. “I’m happy. Whatever you want, Dean, you should have. You’ve suffered long enough.”

Love flooded the older brother, making his eyes mist over. “Thanks, Sammy.” He hugged his brother tight, holding him close. They’d never been much for showing affection, knowing th other loved them.

Backing away from each other, Sam cleared his throat, looking around. “Don’t make this weird.” He smiled, play punched Dean’s shoulder, and went to bed.

 

Once Sam left, Cas went back to showing himself. He’d also taken to being in Dean’s bed when he went to bed or already having the coffee brewing right before he knew Dean would wake up. The new routine was nice, Dean felt content. He felt happy, even.

Dean took it upon himself to get extra channels on his cable that Cas might like (Nature documentary channels as well as some history channels as well) and even buying books for the ghost. Dean didn’t even buy himself new stuff like this so Cas better be happy with his new stuff.

When laying in bed, Dean and Ca usually talked about themselves, their lives, or, you know, past lives. When Cas asked about what Dean wanted to do, he didn’t say much on the topic. Nothing more than a small “Just survive.” And then the subject changed. It’s not that Dean didn’t want to tell Cas his answer. It’s just that he didn’t have an answer. He never belonged anywhere, never wanted to travel anywhere, and besides burgers and pie, Dean had no hobbies or passions.

Dean didn’t even like his job. Usually people didn’t but Dean just felt stuck. He was stuck in time and place and had nowhere to go. How could he? It wasn’t that he wanted to anyway, especially after meeting Castiel. He just wanted to stay put and be happy.

 

When Dean woke up to a soft caress to his hair, he hummed a happy sound and smiled. Cas loved to wake him in soft ways and Dean loved it too. It made him feel soft and cared for. When Dean wasn’t putting on a mask of hard steel and tough exterior, his broken pieces were rattling and he needed someone to hold him together. Cas was that someone.

The caressing moved toward his face and jaw, making Dean bare his throat to the other man. Dean cracked open his eyes, seeing the early morning light backlighting Castiel, making his hair shine brown and the shadows on his face to dance.

Dean hummed again, leaning into the soft touches. He relished the feeling of the hands on him. After being touch starved for years from self-hate and manipulation, he finally let himself be loved. Though Castiel was dead, he still felt something for the man.

Castiel leaned down, placing a soft kiss on Dean’s cheek. “You’re beautiful when you sleep.” He confessed, brushing back the other man’s hair. He brushed his thumbs over the blushing cheeks of his green eyes beauty. Such a beautiful man, inside and out, living such an ugly lonely life. It brought Cas joy knowing that he was changing that slowly, one day at a time.

“You’re just gorgeous all the time. It’s so unfair, really.” He mused, placing another kiss on the man’s face. “I have to sit here and watch you being you when I’m just… me.”

Dean blinked up at Castiel, a smile playing on his lips. “Just sitting there being you?” He mocking placed a hand to his chest, pretending to be affronted. “Your eyes are so blue, the first time I saw them, I wanted to go swimming in the ocean. Your hair is, well, it looks like you’ve just been laid and I want to make you look like that on purpose. And your thighs. Don’t get me started on those thighs. The thoughts they make me think.”

If he could flush, Cas would have been beat red, head to toe. Instead of responding, he slowly lowed his head, slowly kissing Dean. His lips were soft and warm, pliable to Cas’ own mouth. He started the kiss slowly, tongue barely making its way into Dean’s mouth but the longer the kiss lasted, the more intense it became. Without breaking the kiss, Dean climbed into his lap, nearly tipping them over.

With tongue and teeth, Dean learned the other man’s mouth. Lips slipping and sliding, Dean’s heart rate picked up, his boxers growing tight around his growing erection. Wearing just boxers left little to the imagination, let alone did little to hide his hard cock.

Breaking apart gasping for breath, Dean ground himself down onto Castiel’s lap, finding him hard. Raising an eyebrown, he looked up at the dead man. “Can you, you know, get off?”

Castiel laughed, shaking Dean on top of him. “Yes, Dean. I can “get off” as you say.” He’d actually used air quotes causing Dean to roll his eyes. “I could also fuck you for hours. I don’t have normal biological responses. I can control myself.”

Dean blinked and Cas was naked. Eyes growing wide, they traveled down the now nude man’s body. What he found was very pleasing. Castiel’s hard cock was just as pretty as his own. He was smooth and almost comparable to Dean, just a bit wider. Dean;s mouth watered at the sight. What he’d feel like buried deep inside. Dean nearly fell off of the bed rushing to grab the lube that Castiel had to catch him, righting his balance.

Castiel watched in awe as Dean opened himself with his fingers, moaning every time he’d add a finger. The most beautiful sounds tumbled from Dean’s mouth as he fucked himself on his fingers. He cock grew harder and his cock leaked. He was so ready.

With Castiel leaning against the headboard, Dean climbed onto his lap, straddling him. He took Cas’ cock and posed it at his entrance. Moaning when the head of Cas’ cock broached his entrance, he started to drop himself faster. Dean nearly came at being filled slowly. The stretch and burn felt so good. As he panted, Dean finished his slow, tortuous decent, his ass resting against Cas’ thighs.

Letting Dean get used to his size, Cas rubbed his hands up Dean’s shaking thighs, grabbing the globes of his ass. He lowered his mouth to Dean’s chest, assaulting his nipples. Dean moaned and gasped at Cas’ attention, nearly coming undone that way.

When Dean started moving, lifting himself up and down, Castiel moaned into his chest. Sweat easily covered Dean as he worked himself making Castiel’s cock hit his prostate, bringing himself closer and closer to orgasm.

Castiel kissed him, his lips wet and hot. God, did his lips feel amazing. He’d needed this. Needed Cas. He knew he was in trouble. He was slowly falling in love with Cas and he knew that’d probably end badly. Cas was here, for the rest of forever, and Dean was flesh and blood. Pushing the thought from his mind, he ran his hands into Castiel’s hair, pulling.

For a split second, he was in midfall, only to land on his back and cock sinking back in him. Castiel fucked into him, holding his legs up and apart, watching himself sink into Dean. Dean was so close, shaking from need.

“Fuck, you’re so big.” He panted, moaning when Castiel hit his prostate. “You feel so good. I know you watched me.” He gripped the base of his cock. “God, it was so hot. Knowing you were watching me touch myself.”

Cas grunted, nipping at Dean’s chest, licking at his nipples. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to be the one making you cum.” He groaned, speeding his thrusts. “Now I get to be.” He batted Dean’s hand away, gripping his cock and stroking. “I’m going to make you cum, Dean.”

He was so close and Cas was on a mission. His strokes and his thrusts made Dean’s eyes roll to the back of his head. He could hear himself mumbling nonsense, coming closer and closer. Castiel changed his position, fucking even deeper. Nearly screaming, Dean’s eyes started to water. He wanted to cum so bad. He needed to.

“Just look at you.” Castiel panted. “You’re taking my cock so beautifully. The noises you’re making are exquisite.”

With a quirk of his wrist, Dean came hard. His cock spilled over Castiel’s hand and his ass pulsed around his cock. He moaned loudly. A few more thrusts and Castiel came too. Both men satisfied, the laid there in each other’s arms. Dean stretched and grimaced at the mess on his stomach and chest.

He wiped his chest off with a sheet, throwing it on the floor. Dean noticed his ass wasn’t leaking. “You don’t actually cum?” Dean questioned. When Cas shook his head, Dean pouted. Dude, that’s not fair. You’re mess free!”

Cas laughed, drawing Dean back to him, kissing his lips. “I’m sorry. I figured you’d be happy that cleanup would be minimal.” He smiled when Dean melted against him.

“I mean, I guess I forgive you.” Dean joked. “If you kiss me like this every day, I could forgive you for anything.”

 

Dean was up on a ladder, fixing a broken window. Kids were assholes but he’d been the same way so he couldn’t be too mad. Placing the broken window at the base of the ladder, he slowly climbed back up with the new clean window. As he replaced the glass, he hummed some Metallica. It’d been a good day despite the broken window. He’d come home to find Cas laying in bed, watching a documentary on bees.

Dean was so concentrated on the window that when a small creppy car backfired in the street outside, he jumped. He jumped so hard that the window slipped from his hands and his started to tip back on the ladder. For a spilt second, Dean felt like he was suspended in midair.

Until gravity took over and Dean started falling. As he fell, he could see a blur out of the corner of his eye. Cas saw him. This would be embarrassing when he hit the bottom.

 

 

Dean woke up to Castiel softly caressing his cheek. Damn, did he love when Cas woke him up like this. His soft fingers threading through his hair and trailing over his face. He opened his eyes to the late evening light flooding through the house.

When he looked up to Cas, his eyes grew in size. His lover’s eyes were sad and tears filled them. “Cas? Baby, what’s wrong?” When Castiel didn’t answer, he sad up, taking his hand in his. The reason he was on the floor was a question for later. “Baby?”

Castiel wiped his eyes, sniffing. “You fell.”

Dean looked at Castiel, confused. “Yeah, and here I am.” He waved a hand at his body. “Alive and well.”

Castiel’s brows drew together, tears fighting to spill over. “Dean, no.” He pointed behind Dean, toward where he’d been working on the window.

When Dean turned his head, he saw why Cas was crying. He wasn’t alive and well. He was across the room, bleeding on the floor.

Dean was dead. What the fuck? What the ACTUAL FUCK? He stared across the room, at his own dead body, confused. He’d just been fixing the window. A simple fix. A simple fix that shouldn’t have Dean laying DEAD across the room.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I tried to get to you. I tried to save you but you just fell so fast.” Cas cried, wiping his eyes again. “I couldn’t save you.”

Dean sat for a few minutes, quiet and thinking. “Sam’s going to hate me.”

Castiel looked at him like he was growing a second head. “What do you mean? Dean, he can’t hate you. You’re dead.”

Dean looked sad. “Yeah, I died and I didn’t even tell him first.”

Castiel sputtered a failed response, no actual words coming out. “Dean! You are dead! You can’t tell someone you’re going to die unless you kill yourself.” He threw his hands up in the air. “You’re going to be stuck here with me as a ghost forever and you’re worried that your brother will be mad at you? He’ll be devastated, Dean.”

Dean looked up at Cas, giving him a sad smile. “He’ll be mad because he won’t be able to talk to me, dummy. I was the one who got the weird abilities and here I go falling off a ladder just like mom did. He’ll be furious.”

“Oh, Dean.” Cas whispered, pulling Dean to him. “I didn’t think about that.”

Dean hugged him back. “Nah, its okay, Cas. I’m okay. Well, as okay as I can be, being dead. And I get to be here with you.” He smiled.

 

When Sam had come to the house, Dean’s body was already taken away and the blood cleaned up. His eyes were red and he looked close to breaking. Dean could tell he’d been crying.

He collected the few things that Dean had, some of them Mary’s. Sam knew were everything was that Dean wanted him to have. It wasn’t hard. Dean didn’t own much and definitely not a whole lot of anything valuable.

When Sam left, he stood at the door, looking back into the house. Like he was willing himself to be able to see something he was missing. Maybe to see Dean. But he knew he couldn’t. Dean wishes he could say goodbye, wishes Sam could see him.

When the door closes, the sound echoes through the quiet house. He won’t see Sam again, not until the house is selling, and even then, he won’t get to say anything. Dean wished he’d written a letter in case anything happened to him but hind sight is always 20/20.

Dean took hold of Castiel’s hand. This was it. This was what he had. He was happy and he didn’t really care he had an early end. Yes, Sam would miss him. But he would move on. Sam was good at that. He would stop being sad and he’d find a girl. They’d buy a house with a white picket fence and have two and half kids.

Dean kissed Castiel, his lips soft and warm. He supposes this was his white picket fence. This was his happy ending. He wasn’t stuck anymore.

 

  
Fin

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a reference to the movie Ghost
> 
> Also, there might only be two chapters


End file.
